


a more peculiar type of happy coincidence

by Hymn



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon ages, Dirty Talk, Ha!, Happy Ending, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Sibling Incest, Underage - Freeform, Well - Freeform, a little rough and possessive, and if i missed ANYTHING pls let me know so i can add it, conrad is down with everything, dub con, more like perfume, on the fly, pls be sure you read the tags, sex in a massive bath, thanks for that wolfram, wolfram has terrible plans, yuuri is greedy all right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-04
Updated: 2007-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: Sometimes even the best laid plans go awry. And then there are Wolfram’s plans, which nobody could ever quite call ‘the best laid.’ Surprisingly enough, that’s okay.





	a more peculiar type of happy coincidence

**Author's Note:**

> springkink, Kyou Kara Maou, Conrad/Yuuri/Wolfram: Oral sex, fucked and fucking (someone in the middle) - "Damn it, Cecilie must have left her perfume in the baths again."

It was planned carefully – or, at least, as carefully as Wolfram could ever stand to plan anything. He had the timing, the place, the special ingredient. He knew Yuuri would come if just because Yuuri had never had a problem with shared baths (the cheater), and that after a long day, he never went to bed without one.

And his coronation- Well. That would have to be the longest day of them all, right? At least in terms of Yuuri-speak, which was always difficult to translate, at best, if Wolfram was being perfectly honest. But he was pretty sure on this one; even he, a prince, was getting tired, standing around in formal wear, at the side of his fiancé, as Yuuri took the final, formal steps to becoming a Maou. 

Everyone felt the rush of power as he chose his path, and Wolfram remembered, with ease, the look of happy acceptance, of nervous determination in his black eyes. Wolfram couldn’t stop the swell in his heart, the shiver down his spine, and the pride that made him almost smile at the wimp who was his king. 

Everything was perfect, and Wolfram decided that, now that Yuuri had chosen this, it was high time that their long celibacy ended. It was _ridiculous_. He had been a wonderful fiancé, and waited and waited until Yuuri was ready, and now Yuuri was the Maou, and if he wasn’t ready, Wolfram didn’t know when he _would_ be ready. 

So he stole a phial of his mother’s perfume.

In the end, Wolfram had no one to blame but himself.

*

“Look, Conrad,” Yuuri said, staggering down the halls under his heavy purple cloak, and his ceremonial uniform. It was different from before he was king: then it was just his old school uniform and a half cape; _now_ it was heavy black silk embroidered with fine silver and gold, and a long, trailing cloak of rich purple that made it feel like he was dragging a carpet around on his shoulders. He grimaced, reached a hand back, and rubbed at the kinks in his neck. “You really can stop following me around.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” said his guard, smiling oh so innocently. Yuuri twitched, eyeing it in his side view. 

“Coooonraaaad,” Yuuri whined, giving him a glower over his shoulder. His guard followed three paces behind, on his left, his dark, sharp eyes in his gentle face keeping a careful, professional watch about them. “The hallways haven’t changed from this morning! I promise! I’m the Maou now! I can go take a bath on my own, I _promise_.”

Conrad kept his face blandly cheerful, and merely said, “One can never be too careful, my King.”

“BAH.” Yuuri turned back around, and finished stomping the rest of the way to the baths, which were already steaming. He let himself unwind, just a little, though he still had a headache at the base of his skull, and his body felt coiled too tight with stress and exhaustion. _Thank you Wolfram_ , he thought, and it was good, very good, to know that someone cared enough to make sure that his bath was hot and ready for him at the end of a hard day.

“Fine,” he reluctantly conceded, as he reached the door, and started through it. Conrad, of course, followed; Yuuri could hear faint splashes, and knew that Wolfram was already in the bath. “But at the very least, you can call me by my given name!”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Argh,” Yuuri groaned, stripping, eager to get out of his heavy finery. It puddled onto the floor, and Conrad silently stooped to pick it up, folding it neatly and efficiently and stowing it away for him. “Thanks,” Yuuri grinned, and then washed quickly, eager to get into the hot bath. The steam was already making his head feel a little blissfully fuzzy along the edges, making his skin moist and pimple with the sudden waves of heat. 

After a moment, though, he gave Conrad a confused look. “Aren’t you getting in, at least?”

“Mm?” Conrad blinked, starting. He had been staring fixedly at Yuuri, a strange expression on his face. It made Yuuri shiver, and his breath catch, and he frowned, confused. Slowly, he finished washing, feeling his heart beat faster than normal, feeling the heat and sweet scent of the hot bath undulate against his bared skin. His nipples were hard, and he felt good, could feel all the tension already draining out of him.

_I can’t wait to actually get into the water_ , he thought slowly, gaze drifting over to it, to where he knew Wolfram was, waiting for him. 

“You should get in,” Yuuri said, slow and deep and certain. He was walking through the steam, to the bath proper. “Get in the bath, Conrad,” he called, kneeling down, sliding into the water. It was hot, burning, and he felt it like a fire catching on his skin, fanning through him. “Wolfram,” he said, thickly. “Wolfram, what-?”

“Here,” his fiancé answered him, and Yuuri was struck by the fact that he’d never heard the blonde like that before, glorious and purring and delicious. “I’m here, Yuuri.”

“Good,” Yuuri gasped, wading through the water, feeling it hot and wet and heavy around him. He could feel himself hardening, lust pulsing through him stronger than any wet dream he’d ever had, than any masturbatory experience, ever. He found Wolfram, pale skin and golden hair and hot green eyes like a dragon snapping, and he drew him close, tight against him. Wolfram was hard against him, shivering, and he moaned when Yuuri thrust instinctively against him.

Then there was Conrad, standing nude at the edge of the bath, watching them with hot, careful, uncertain eyes. “Your Majesty, I don’t think-”

“Get in the bath, Conrad,” Yuuri said. “The water’s fine.”

Against him, Wolfram shuddered, long and slow, and then Wolfram’s brain caught up with his ears, apparently, and he jerked, slightly, his eyes opening and fixing on Conrad, as best as the pleasure blown pupils could. “Wh-what? No. That’s not what-”

“Shh,” Yuuri said, confused and yet strangely certain. “It’s okay.” He pressed his mouth against Wolfram’s neck, a long, smooth column that was all his to mark. His brain was being possessed he realized distantly. He was being possessed and drowned in a heavy, sedate lust, in a mind frame that saw and wanted and had no room to be embarrassed, not with the scent of the baths and the steam and Conrad and Wolfram and sex in the air. 

Conrad slid into the bath behind them, and waded closer, slowly. He said, with an effort, “I think mother left her perfumes in the bath, again.” Then he surrendered with a groan, and pressed his chest tight against Yuuri’s back, wet, slick skin to wet, slick skin. 

“O-oh,” Yuuri said, and then frowned. “I guess that’s all right.” He ran one thoughtful hand down Wolfram’s side, pulling back to watch the blonde’s face, as it struggled between angry and frustrated, to hopelessly aroused. “Though I- I think I’d rather do this to you guys when I’m...not drugged?”

Conrad breathed sharply at his back, and buried his face in Yuuri’s hair, still careful not to let his lower waist press against Yuuri. Wolfram made a strangled noise, and punched Yuuri in the shoulder. 

“Ow!”

“You c-cheater!” Wolfram hissed, moaning as Yuuri moved a thigh between his legs and rocked. “Argh!”

“Jeez,” Yuuri muttered, as his brain slipped deeper and deeper into the gutter. “It’s not like I don’t love you, you know? It’s not like you two don’t love _each other_.”

Behind his shoulder, Yuuri heard Conrad give a wry chuckle, and shift just enough to be heard. “He’s right, Wolfram. You...you should trust your king more, brother. It’s the only thing that’s gotten me this far.”

”I...” Wolfram shut his eyes, and finally just relaxed into Yuuri’s grip. “Hmph. Whatever.”

Yuuri wasn’t quite in his right mind, and he was, in the back of his conscience, a little afraid of what was happening. But, in his heart, where even lust perfumes couldn’t reach, Yuuri knew that he couldn’t regret this – wouldn’t know how, no matter how embarrassed and mortified he wound up being; even if he couldn’t look them in the eye for a month after, he knew it would be worth it.

*

They had to teach Yuuri. Wolfram already knew plenty, thanks to Conrad, in days long past, and it was a strange thing to catch Wolfram’s eyes as he performed a trick on Yuuri that he had once learned on Conrad. At one point, when the tangle of limbs shifted and turned until it was Wolfram in the middle, Yuuri at his back watching over a shoulder with eyes clear despite the fog, Conrad had said, voice low and rough and not quite willing to bare itself entirely, “It’s been a while, little brother.”

“Hmph,” Wolfram said, though his breath was catching, and his eyes had a fierce shine to them. He reached up, grabbed Conrad by the hair, and pulled him down roughly. “Too long,” he admitted ungracefully, and the two of them kissed beneath Yuuri’s smile.

“That’s better,” Yuuri said, a flush suffused permanently across his skin, eyes hungry on them, reaching his arms round to touch Conrad. “I like this better than when you fight.”

Wolfram pulled away with a gasp, and threw a sassy look over his shoulder, his hands still clenched possessive-tight in Conrad’s hair. Conrad watched with dark eyes, still afraid to believe. “Pervert,” Wolfram muttered. “You would! And what the fuck, Yuuri? Don’t you know enough to realize you’re supposed to be jealous?”

“Nope,” Yuuri laughed. “We can be happy together, can’t we?”

And that, that was when Conrad let himself breathe that final sigh of relief, to really, truly let himself trust and believe that maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t have to give up the two things he loved and wanted most to each other. Maybe. After all, if Yuuri believed in it, then anything was possible.

*

After that, things got even more confusing. They weren’t sure if the perfume worked harder against them, or if the effect lessened and it was just their natural lust and desperation. But hands touched and stroked and mouths and tongues and teeth tasted and nipped and devoured indiscriminately until Wolfram finally tossed his head back with a moaning gasp, and managed to pant out, “Look, I don’t care who, but somebody had better fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk for a month, all right?!”

And when he put it that way, neither Yuuri nor Conrad were even about to contemplate the thought of denying him.

“Here,” Conrad said, “Here, Your Majesty, like this.”

It was hard to tell if Yuuri’s groan was from the use of his title or from the way that Conrad had slicked his fingers with oil and pressed two into Wolfram, so that tight heat closed all around them. Wolfram made a small noise in the back of his throat, arching and scrabbling at Yuuri’s shoulders. He was pressed back against the edge of the bath, and would no doubt have a bruise, but it felt good, so good to be caught helpless beneath Conrad and Yuuri’s bodies like this.

Wolfram managed to hiss out a sentence, though, even as he whined because, yes, Conrad still knew the exact pace, and he was moving Yuuri’s fingers along it and it was perfect, so perfect. “Weller,” he forced out, “if you’re, _nngh_ , going to fu-uck him, at least call him by his- o-oh, god – his...”

“His what?” Conrad asked, half teasing and breathless. Yuuri moaned and laughed, and Wolfram could feel him rocking between his thigh and Conrad’s cock, so that Conrad’s teasing broke off into a heart felt groan. The pace of Yuuri’s fingers stuttered, and then Yuuri started it up again on his own, slow at first, and then faster.

“My name, Conrad,” Yuuri said. “I want to hear you say my name.”

“Fine,” Conrad said quietly, tenderly, pressing kisses to Yuuri’s neck. "As you like...Yuuri." Wolfram watched with lazy eyes, and thought, for one wild moment, that he was a genius. If only all his plans went this unexpectedly well. 

“And,” Yuuri continued, teeth gritted, eyes determined. They caught Wolfram’s, and held them with the force of Yuuri’s will, and Yuuri demanded, “I want you to call your brother by his first name.” Then he dipped down, and sloppily but earnestly did his best to mouth and suck the head of Wolfram’s cock, where it jutted out of the water, angry red and already leaking. Wolfram’s breath caught, and stilled in his chest, until he bucked and keened, and came, Yuuri’s fingers finally brushing over that spot inside of him, his tongue lewd and wet and coaxing against him, drawing his orgasm out of him. 

He came back panting, shaking, and moaning softly, writhing as the sensations swarmed instantly over him again. Yuuri’s fingers were still moving slowly inside of him, and Yuuri was bucking back onto Conrad’s fingers, now, too, gasping, face twisted into some beautiful rapture, a splash of come marring his face and sending lust tripping down Wolfram’s spine at the sight.

“Yuuri,” Wolfram murmured softly, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek. Conrad’s free hand came round to cover his, and Wolfram looked up, into dark brown eyes, full of love and caution, a strange insecurity, and he spread his fingers, tightened them around his brother’s, and said, “Conrad.”

*

It was hard to stay in the real world. Yuuri was caught and torn and spread out on too much pleasure to be able to stay in his body, it seemed. But he wanted to, oh, how he wanted to stay in there, caught between Wolfram and Conrad, caught and held and loved and fucked. He couldn’t make any sounds save wet gasps, and tiny whimpers, as he tried to get enough air. Wolfram was hot and wet and slick and demanding beneath him, his body spread out and greedy around him, swallowing his dick again and again and always bucking up to ask for more.

Behind him, Conrad was a slow, steady presence, a slow, steady thickness and heat thrusting into him, spreading him too full and then leaving him too empty, and occasionally brushing against that spot that left him seeing stars. His body pulsed, tightened, contracted, trying to draw them into him, draw every feeling and touch and sound and expression inside so that he could drown in it.

It was heaven, and Yuuri had never been happier to be a demon than he was, now, if he could have these two brothers with him every day and every night. He shivered and gasped, overcome and overwhelmed, drugged, now, not on perfume but on a love and hunger that was just for them, and it was so, so perfect.

It didn’t matter what difficulties this might cause. It didn’t matter, because Yuuri trusted in the strength of these two, even more than he trusted in himself. And if it was for them, for Wolfram and for Conrad, then Yuuri knew he could do anything, if just to keep them all together, to keep them all happy.

When Yuuri finally gave in, and came on a silent scream, his world exploding into a white-hot miasma courtesy of Wolfram and Conrad, he rather thought it the perfect beginning to a new life.

*

In the end, Wolfram didn’t tell them that he was the one who had poured his mother’s perfume into the bath water. He could only imagine how much Yuuri would tease him, if he knew. Besides, it was a small detail next to the glorious resolution of his plan.

_A genius_ , he would often decide smugly, usually late at night, when he could sleepily and happily survey his lovers drifting off peacefully in the bed beside him. _Obviously_ , he would tell himself, _I am a genius of epic proportions_.


End file.
